


Emma

by 221believeintheworld



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Authors chooses to avoid more tags for fear of giving away the plot, F/M, Fluff, Growing Apart, Marriage, Trying to have a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 07:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4555356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221believeintheworld/pseuds/221believeintheworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma can feel her husband slowly slipping away from her. She needs him. She loves him. She decides to take matters into her own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to AO3, and frankly I'm only just now realizing how daunting it is to put your writing up on the internet for strangers to read. Nevertheless, I'm glad you're here. Enjoy!

Emma woke with a start, gasping for breath. Her eyes flashed open, unfocused and unseeing as she slowly sat up. She rested her hand on her frantically beating heart, focusing on taking deep breaths. Her head swam with unnecessary adrenaline. She looked warily around her familiar bedroom and down at her sleeping husband, George, trying to convince her body that she was safe.  
Once her breathing and heart rate slowed, she swung her legs out of bed, sitting with her head hung, hands gripping the edge of the mattress. Emma took a deep breath and stood, shuffling through the shadowy house into the kitchen. She made a cup of tea for herself in the darkness, slowly and methodically going through the familiar motions.  
She went outside on the porch and settled into the ancient rocking chair, curling her tea in both hands. She stared blankly into the night, shivering a bit in the cold. She didn’t touch her tea.  
By the time the first glimmer of the sun appeared on the horizon, Emma’s tea was stone cold. She still had not moved. George found her once the sun was well and truly up, beginning to warm her gooseflesh. He was already dressed for work, sharp and energetic in a pale blue button up and grey slacks.  
“My, we’re up early again, aren’t we?” he asked cheerily, absently kissing the top of her head before going inside to collect his briefcase. He was a low-level associate at a law firm, young and eagerly working his way to a promotion. Emma made a vague noise of agreement, still looking out on the suburban street.  
“Listen, hun, I’m gonna be late at the office again tonight. Don’t wait up. Love you!” George called as the garage door opened. Emma listened to him get into the car and drive away.  
She sighed heavily, then carefully unfolded herself from the rocking chair and shuffled back inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma had found herself daydreaming more and more and sleeping less and less over the past few months – ever since the nightmares had started. The nightmares were strange, because they weren’t about anything. There was nothing; it was pure blankness. Her subconscious swam with visions of emptiness. These nightmares got under Emma’s skin in a way nothing ever had. The daytime, however, was more frightening: there were whole stretches of time when she didn’t seem to be present at all. She went through the motions – going grocery shopping, taking walks in the park, coming home and making dinner for George. She stared at him as he stared at the TV. George had always been kind to her, always listened, was always there- and Emma missed him as though he were a million miles away. He unseeingly ate the dinner she’d made for him.  
“This is good, hun – new recipe?” he asked, finally turning to her during a commercial break.  
“Yes, I found it in an old cookbook in the garage. Have you gone through there recently? There are all kinds of stuff. Maybe we can go through it this weekend,” she replied, eager to make plans together, even if it was just housekeeping.  
“Mm-hmm,” he hummed absentmindedly, turning his attention back to the game on TV.  
Emma sighed and got up to go finish the dishes. She didn’t sleep that night.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma was walking in the park, simply because she had nothing to do with her time when George was at work. George had never been a particularly social person; he only had a few friends when he and Emma met. He had always liked the idea of people more than the reality of them. But he had let Emma into his world, let her into his heart like no other. That trust had made Emma feel special and loved. Recently, however, he was always at work. Today he was putting in extra time on Saturday, apparently having forgotten about their garage cleaning date.  
Since when does cleaning the garage count as a date? Emma thought to herself. She suddenly had memories of dating George, so long ago, when they were in college. They used to stay up all night, walking hand in hand and talking excitingly about his childhood as the quiet youngest of four loud brothers and her English papers. They went on picnics on sunny days, and took naps together on lazy Sunday afternoons. They made snide comments about their elderly economics professor and laughed for hours about absolutely nothing. They were together all the time.  
They had eloped to get married right after college because George’s family didn’t want him to get married so young. It had caused a rift in his relationship with them; Emma had still yet to meet any of George’s family because they barely spoke. Emma had felt responsible for his estrangement from his family, but George had assured her that she was worth it.  
A chilly breeze blew under Emma’s coat and she shivered, snapping out of her reverie.  
Sometimes the loneliness threatened to crush her from the inside out.  
She strolled down a paved path under a line of big, shady trees, just starting to drop their leaves in the crisp fall air. Hands in her pockets and shoulders hunched, Emma stared absently at the path ahead until a sound caught her attention. It was a baby laughing hysterically.  
She turned around and saw a mother and her child sitting on a bench several yards away. The mother was holding her baby up in the air and burrowing her face into his small tummy, making eating noises.  
“You’re so cute, pumpkin; Mommy could just eat you up! Nom-nom-nom-nom,” she teased, pretending to munch the baby’s soft skin as the baby shrieked with laughter. Twin smiles lit up both the mother and her baby.  
Emma slowly turned and began to walk home.


	4. Chapter 4

That night, she woke George up at around three am.  
“Hmm?” George mumbled, eyes still closed, “Baby, what is it? It’s” – he reluctantly opened his eyes to peer at the alarm clock past Emma’s shoulder – “Oh, god, Emma, it’s three am!”  
“I know,” she breathed.  
George squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and then opened them to focus on Emma. He met her serious gray gaze- which was strange; weren’t her eyes blue? He shook his head and refocused as she whispered, “George, will you do me a favor?”  
He nodded absently, burrowing back down into the covers and beginning to close his eyes again. “Sure, hun, what do you need?” he garbled through a jaw-popping yawn.  
“Let’s have a baby,” she whispered into the dark.  
George’s eyes flew open, and he sat straight up, causing Emma to yelp in surprise.  
“My god, Emma, are you serious?!” he exclaimed, grabbing her elbow as she slowly sat up. She looked down into her lap, playing with her hands.  
“Well, you know, we don’t have to right now if you don’t want to, but, I just, I don’t know, I feel like we’re ready, and you have a good job, and I’m not doing anything anyway, and I don’t know, I shouldn’t have brought it up, just… forget it. Go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you.” Emma’s eyes began to shine with tears and she continued to stare into her lap. She jumped a little when George’s hand came to her cheek, guiding her to meet his eyes.  
He stared into those deep green eyes he loved so much. Wait, loved? – that thought surprised him, for a moment. He looked at the dull silver glinting on his left hand where it cradled her face, and realized that he had forgotten, in the humdrum of his life, what a marvelous creature he had married.  
She was still looking at him, uncertainly looming in her eyes, as though she didn’t dare to hope. George suddenly wanted nothing more than to see hope in her eyes again, like when they were young and stupid and in love, and ran away to get married because they couldn’t stand the idea of not being together forever.  
George brushed his thumb slowly across Emma’s cheekbone, and she closed her eyes, relaxing a bit into the caress. “Is this really what you want?” he whispered, “Emma, be honest – will this make you happy?”  
Eyes still closed, Emma slowly nodded.  
George slid his hand from her face to take both her hands in his own. “In that case, Emma, could you look at me?” Emma opened her eyes, shining with unshed tears and bright in a way George hadn’t seen in months. George smiled and squeezed her hands.  
“Let’s make a baby.”  
Emma squealed and pounced on him, hugging him more tightly than she had in what seemed like forever. “Oh, God, George, oh – thank you, thank you, thank you,” she chanted as hot tears stained the shoulder of George’s shirt. George, stunned at first, hugged her back fiercely.  
“Of course, baby, I’d do anything to make you happy,” he said, surprised by how much he truly meant it.  
Emma pulled back and held his face in both her hands. “I love you,” she whispered. “Let’s never forget that.”  
“Of course not, hun, of course not. We’re going to be ok. I love you too,” he assured her. There was time to worry about the logistics of this monumental decision later. For the moment, he was just going to hold his wife. He laid back down, gently pulling her down with him, and wrapped his arms around her, sighing in contentment.  
Emma sighed too, giggling a bit at now quickly George was snoring again. She relaxed into his embrace, looking into his sleeping face, knowing that he was going to be the father of her child. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders; she was light as a feather. She sighed happily again, and before she knew it she was sound asleep for the first time in months.


	5. Chapter 5

Emma threw her head back and laughed, hazel eyes shining in the warm circle of light cast from the candle on the table. A few other patrons of the restaurant turned to look at the happy couple. George took Emma’s hand across the table, rubbing his thumb across her smooth skin.  
“God, I love you,” he exclaimed, overwhelmed with sudden affection.   
“I love you too, George,” Emma replied, still smiling, “and a baby makes three!”   
She winked, and George giggled. The past two weeks, ever since they had decided to have a child, had been bliss. They hugged and kissed and laughed more than ever. Just the Wednesday before, George had blown off work to take Emma on a romantic picnic, just like they used to in college. Emma had been utterly thrilled.   
Looking at George’s smiling face, at the affection that lingered in his eyes, Emma thought the crushing loneliness from just a few weeks ago seemed distant and unreachable. She no longer pined for her husband; he was right there. He would always be right there. She sighed happily, tightening her hand in his, and resumed eating her pasta, suggestively looking through her lashes at George with warm brown eyes.


	6. Three Months Later

George sat, tense, pretending to watch the TV. He had skipped work to stay home and wait for Emma. He jumped as he heard the key turn in the door, and quickly rushed to meet Emma as she came in.   
Emma watched warily as George ran up to her, debating how to deliver the disappointing news. George quickly kissed her hello, looking down at her with bright, hopeful eyes.   
“So? Emma?” George held her hand in both of his, “What did the doctor say?”  
Emma’s eyes cast down, and George deflated in disappointment.   
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Still not pregnant.”  
George rubbed his hands up and down her arms, then pulled her in and held her close. Emma did not wrap her arms around him in return, but allowed herself to absorb his comfort.   
“It’s ok, baby, it’ll be ok. It’s not your fault,” George reassured her. He wish she would have let him go to the doctor with her, but she insisted on going alone. She stiffened suddenly, grabbing his shoulders and looking up at him.   
Her fierce gray eyes shone with tears ready to spill. She shook his shoulders, exclaiming, “But what if it is, George? The doctor said there’s nothing wrong with you! Who else’s fault could it be? There’s something wrong with me. There must be, otherwise I’d be pregnant right now! There’s something…something wrong…” The tears began to spill down her pale cheeks, and her hands tightened on his shoulders.   
She suddenly turned away from him, looking down and curling in on herself and her tears began to heave into sobs. George, unsurprised by her outburst, rubbed her back soothingly. Such sentiments had grown common in Emma’s head over the past few weeks. He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Emma, hugging her from behind.   
“I don’t blame you, baby,” he whispered into her dark chestnut hair, “You heard what the doctor said; these things are fickle. They take time. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, we can always adopt. I’ll make sure you’re a mom, sweetheart.”  
Emma began to relax, nodding slowly at his words. She turned back around, wiping her eyes and laughing slightly.   
“You’re right, you’re right, of course. I’m just being silly, the hormones and stuff, you know.” Emma sighed and looked back up at George. “I’m just frustrated. It’ll be ok.”   
George took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead as she closed her eyes. He leaned to rest his forehead against hers, hands still cradling her face, enjoying their closeness.   
“It’ll be ok,” he whispered.


	7. Chapter 7

George was loath to leave Emma as she struggled with her infertility, but he had to go to work. He had used up all of his sick and vacation days to stay home with her, and his boss had warned him in no uncertain terms that his job was at risk. George had taken the job as a stepping stone, hoping to get a promotion as he gained experience. Normally he liked working alone in his office, feeling independent and productive. Now, he just wanted to be with Emma. With a heavy heart, he looked over his shoulder at Emma, still lying awake in bed, too upset to face the world. George sighed, then turned and shuffled out of the house.   
George was distracted and unproductive at work that day, much to his boss’s increasing chagrin. His mind was on Emma. He was concerned about her constantly. He knew that she blamed herself for their not having a child, and George selfishly worried that it would eventually take a toll on their relationship. George loved Emma more than anything and they had never been closer, but he felt like this could be the wedge that drove them apart.   
George was relieved when he could finally go home to get back to comforting Emma. She needed him to help her through this, to help her become a mother.   
He was immediately suspicious when he got home. The house wafted with the delicious smells of food cooking, and he heard Emma humming in the kitchen. He slipped into the house, calling tentatively, “Honey? I’m home!”  
Emma immediately rushed from the kitchen to him, throwing her arms around him.   
“Oh, George, I’m so glad you’re here!” Emma gushed, “I’ve made a very special dinner, because today is the best day I’ve had in a very long time.” She pulled back and looked into George’s face, her blue eyes shining with a happiness George hadn’t seen in months.   
“Well… that’s great, Emma,” George said, still apprehensive of his wife’s sudden elation. “What happened?”  
Emma ran into the kitchen to get something and rushed back in, hiding her hands behind her back and grinning mischievously. “I was going to wait tell you during dinner, but I can’t wait that long,” she admitted, “Here!”  
Emma thrust a small plastic stick in George’s face, and it took his brain a moment to register what the little pink plus sign meant. Emma giggled as George’s face lit up.  
“Oh my god, Emma, you’re pregnant! That’s great!” George and Emma both laughed and he picked her up and spun her around. After setting her gently back on her feet, George put both his hand over Emma’s belly, as though he could feel the baby growing.   
Emma covered his hands with hers, sighing contentedly. She looked up at George.   
“Everything is perfect now, George,” Emma gave him a kiss, chaste but full of meaning. She smiled brilliantly. “Absolutely perfect.”


	8. Two Months Later

George was folding laundry in the living room as Emma finished up the dishes in the kitchen. The sun was set, casting purple shadows in the growing twilight. George smiled as he heard Emma hum happily.   
The last few months had been the best time of George’s life. Emma had been radiant, and George no longer worried for their future. He knew, deep down, that they would be together forever. Emma, now two months into her pregnancy, was just beginning to show the smallest of baby bumps. George had taken to rubbing Emma’s stomach fondly in passing as she giggled at him. George would simply smile back, drinking in the warmth of Emma’s brilliant green eyes.   
George snapped out of his reverie as he heard something shatter in the kitchen. He quickly stood up, running to the doorway to check on Emma.   
Emma was surrounded by shards of broken glass, clutching to the sink with her hand clutching her stomach. George watched in horror as she slowly sunk down to the floor, broken glass crunching beneath her. He rushed to crouch next to her, grabbing her arm.   
“Emma? Emma! Baby, what’s wrong?!” George asked frantically.   
Emma curled in on herself, wincing in pain.   
“I think…” she whispered, “George, the baby…call the doctor.”   
George immediately jumped up, running to the nearest phone in the living room.   
His panic grew as his shaky hands tried to punch in three simple numbers. He finally succeeded, looking the phone up to his ear and bouncing with excess adrenaline.   
“911. What’s your emergency?”  
“Yes, hi, um, my wife just collapsed. She’s two months pregnant and um,” George walked back into the kitchen and gasped, swallowing slowly, “um, there’s a lot of blood.”   
George quickly gave their address and was assured an ambulance was on its way before tossing the phone aside and gathering Emma into his arms.   
She was now sitting in a pool of blood that was growing bigger and bigger. Emma, laid across George’s lap, looked up at him, her black eyes flashing.   
“You can’t leave me, George!” she said fiercely, grabbing onto his shoulders tightly. “You can’t… you can’t…” she slowly fell back, passing out from the blood loss.   
George hugged Emma close, rocking her as his hot tears trickled down her neck.   
“I’m not leaving you,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “I promise, I’ll never leave you.”   
He stayed there, holding his wife’s limp body, silently willing the ambulance to get to her faster. He nearly laughed with relief when he finally heard the siren coming up the street. Paramedics pounded on the door, and George shouted, his voice hoarse, “The door’s open! We’re in here, in here!”   
The paramedics banged open the door and ran into the kitchen, only to find George crying alone in his kitchen.   
One of the paramedics, a tall, dark-haired young man, said urgently, “Sir, where is your wife?”  
George looked up at them, confused and desperate. “What do you mean, where is she?!” He shook his empty arms, “She’s right here! Are you blind? Just help her, please; she’s lost so much blood…”  
The paramedic’s brows furrowed. There was nothing in this sobbing man’s arms, nothing around him on the kitchen floor.   
“Sir, there’s no one there.”   
George looked down at Emma, at her eyes. They were still closed. George thought of her eyes, the way they shined when they’d gotten married, when they’d decided to have a baby, when she’d gotten pregnant. Her beautiful eyes, the most gorgeous color…Wait, George thought, What color are they?  
George looked up in horror at the paramedic.   
He looked back down at Emma. Her voice echoed in his head.   
'You can’t leave me, George.'  
He knew he never would.


End file.
